


Protego

by askboo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Divorce, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Post-Series, Wizard Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askboo/pseuds/askboo
Summary: “Thanks ever so, Potter,” Draco snapped, straightening up. “What gave it away?”“Don’t beat yourself up too much - the disguise was impeccable. It’s your personality that’s the problem,” Harry said through grit teeth. “I knew the second you opened your mouth.”(Or, Another Story Where Draco Has To Help Harry fix An Improbable Magical Problem)





	

The woman standing at Harry’s door was a shoe-in for Molly Weasley.

She had curly hair streaked with grey, piled on top of her head. Her skin was soft-looking but wrinkled around the eyes. She was plump, with clothes that looked home-made, slightly ill fitting and floral patterned. Harry was surprised she wasn’t wearing an apron to complete the look. 

She did not look at all like a member of the Department of Residence Protection and Welfare. She looked very little like a ministry worker at all. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like someone designed for Harry to trust.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but stepped back to let her in. She tugged off her tweed jacket and handed it to Harry with a simple gesture. He took it and and held it up in front of the closet - it was pulled gently from his fingers and floated inside the doors, arranging itself neatly on a hanger.

“Ingrid Breedlove,” the woman said sharply, without extending her hand. “Department of Residence Protection and Welfare.”

“Yes,” Harry said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Indeed,” she said, and her brown eyes were flinty. “And did you read the documents the department sent to you by owl one week ago?”

“Yes,” Harry said again. He could sense her authoritative disapproval, and though she’d been sent here for exactly this purpose, it, as always, had the effect of annoying him. 

“And yet, you allowed me into your home without performing the regulatory precautions, including a set of three questions to confirm my identity.”

Harry frowned. Why was it that she sounded like she was saying this without even a hint of surprise? He had read the documents, and he’d memorized the questions. He hadn’t thought it so urgent that he would need to ask her before letting her out of the rain. It wasn’t the war anymore.

She was reminding him less and less of Molly by the second. Her sigh was impatient as she pulled the door back open. “Try again,” she commanded. “Correctly, from the beginning.”

*

Ingrid thought very little of the small attic guest room Harry had prepared for her stay. Her mouth twisted at the sight of the small bed and even smaller window, into a pinched look of distaste. She kept a tight hold on her satchel as if unwilling to let it touch the floor. 

“Will it do?” Harry said, annoyed. As her job was to stay in people’s houses to improve its magical protection, he would have thought she would have developed some manner of keeping her thoughts to herself. “All other rooms are currently occupied by myself and my children.”

Ingrid seemed to catch herself, her face schooling into a cooler, more impassive look. Harry felt a jolt of familiarity in his stomach. It only made his frown deepen. “Get yourself settled in,” he said, turning away. “Dinner’s at 6.”

Ingrid managed to keep herself professional for a short while. She withheld comment on the food, even though Harry could admit to himself that perhaps he should have prepared something more welcoming than his usual fry-up. She endured the tour of the rest of the house with a perfectly straight face, though her eyes did flicker upon the mess of papers and books in Harry’s study.

When they finally got down to business, however, sitting over a pile of documents at the kitchen table - she was unable to help but make her disapproval perfectly clear. Harry had outlined the problems of the past year - all the jinxes and dark enchantments that had been making their way regularly passed his wards. Sounds, smells and weather that he couldn’t explain. Shattering spells that broke his windows. The flowers in his front garden transfigured into poisonous Venus Traps that took snaps at him when he walked by. Cornish pixies let loose in his kitchen. Lastly, and most recently, a Finger-Removing Jinx cast on his front door handle, which had made it impossible for Lily come to stay with him as she usually did the last two weeks of every month. 

“And when did these events start, exactly?” Ingrid asked.

“September of last year,” Harry said. “Right after my youngest son left for Hogwarts.”

“A year and six months ago,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms. “Why on earth haven’t you contacted the department before now?”

“Because they were just pranks!” Harry said, frustrated. “Stupid pranks.”

“And so?” Ingrid replied, like Harry was stupid and frustrating. “Is there any particular reason you should have to put up with it? That your children might have to?”

Harry stood with an aggravated sigh and snatched up their empty tea cups. He didn’t say anything.

“Or isn’t it that you didn’t want to admit that your wards weren’t working,” she said disdainfully. “Nothing is worth more than your pride, is it, Potter? Didn’t want anyone to know how worthless you are at charms.”

Harry dropped the tea cups into his sink with a clatter, whirling around to face the table as the sink filled with suds on his own. He stared hard at the woman seated at his kitchen table, tracing her features as she glared back at him. Her face was utterly unfamiliar in every sense. Protection workers hid their own identities to prevent becoming targets of the wizards and witches who sought to hurt the people they protected. He’d never seen this woman before. No one had. And yet, he knew exactly who she was. 

“Did you think dressing as Molly would hide how utterly intolerable you are, Draco?” he snapped. “That’s optimistic, especially for you.”

Ingrid paled and then flushed. The kitchen was quiet and tense, motionless, for several long seconds. Then she lifted her wand, passing it over her in a slow, wiping motion. Her clothes and hair passed through a variety and shapes and colours as her body slowly pulled in, lengthened. In the end, Draco Malfoy sat in his kitchen table in an all black suit, his long legs extended. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the thin glasses perched on his nose and the anger in his expression.

“Thanks ever so, Potter,” Draco snapped, straightening up. “What gave it away?”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much - the disguise was impeccable. It’s your personality that’s the problem,” Harry said through grit teeth. “I knew the second you opened your mouth.”

Draco pushed air through his teeth, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He tapped the papers with his wand so they would shuffle themselves into some sort of order, then allowed the document folder to close and seal itself elegantly. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry snapped, as Draco put the folder back in his briefcase. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Potter. It’s my job,” he said.

“You’re with the Department of Resident Protection and Welfare?” Harry said. He let doubt and disdain drip from his voice. Like Draco Malfoy would care about protecting people--

“Yes, Potter,” Draco ground out. “Do you suppose the ministry was eager to help me protect the Manor from vigilante justice after the war? Needless to say I was required to become something of an expert in the field.”

“And so you went to work for them after?” Harry said, with a smirk. “Not content to live off family money, as the rumours say?”

Draco shot him an icy look. “Part of the job is being the last person anyone would suspect,” he said. “My reasons are my own - and we’re here to talk about you.”

Harry came forward, gripping the back of his chair. He glared down at Malfoy’s briefcase. “Well, tell them I want someone else,” he said. “Why the hell would you agree to take this case?”

Something new flickered in Malfoy’s expression. Something strange and different. “Believe me, I begged off,” Draco said. “But in the end, it was a favour to a friend.”

Harry yanked the chair out, sitting himself down. He glared at Draco as he searched his brain for any friend they might have in common. Anyone at the ministry who would go to Draco as a solution to Harry’s problems. No one in the Auror department knew, as Harry hadn’t mentioned a word of it. There were only a few people who knew, who’d badgered him to contact the department in the first place. Ginny, or Ron, or--

Harry grit his teeth. “Hermione,” he muttered.

Draco was leaned back in his chair, arms casually crossed. He seemed to have regained some measure of his cool calm while Harry was working it through. “I owed her a favour,” he said simply. 

“Yes,” Harry scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I imagine you had all sorts of dealings with Magical Law Enforcement.”

Draco sighed. Sighed at him like Harry was a child. “She seemed to think,” he said. “That you would listen to me.”

“ _Did_ she--”

“Or perhaps,” Draco said loudly, over him. “That I wouldn’t concern myself with avoiding the shattering of your fragile ego. I am perfectly comfortable telling you the truth.”

Harry finally allowed himself to meet Draco’s eyes. He was silent, furious, and yet...there was a part of him that knew that this was probably for the best. Hermione wasn’t stupid. And Harry….he knew he could be. Draco wasn’t going to balk under the pressure Harry knew he was capable of wielding, the influence that came with being the Saviour. Draco wasn’t going to let Harry get away with...anything. “And what’s the truth?” he said quietly, after several long moments.

Draco put his chin in his hand, his grey eyes looking out towards the window. “That you’re letting this happen to you,” he said. “And I’m the best that there is at putting an end to it.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long while again. The clock ticked on in the kitchen. His children’s animated faces grinned back at him from the face of the clock. Lily was missing baby teeth in her picture.

“Alright,” Harry said quietly, looking back to Draco. “Fine.”

Draco took a deep breath, released it quietly. It seemed the agonizing weight of their childhood had left both of them, for the moment. “You’ll need to do what I say,” he said. “Exactly as I say it.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Fine,” he said again. “Where do we start?”

*  
“The issue is your wards,” Draco said the next morning, over eggs and sausages. He held a fork in one hand and a quill in the other, taking notes. Harry tried to read them upside down. 

“My wards?” Harry said. He shook his head. “Despite what you think of my skill in charms - I do know how to put up wards, Malfoy.”

Draco sighed, flicking his eyes up from his notes. “What did you think, Potter?” he asked. “That these pranks, as you say, are some kind of advanced magic? Crass jinxes that are somehow capable of penetrating wards with the strength of our kind’s darkest curses?”

Harry frowned, putting a hand in his hair. “When you put it that way,” he muttered.

Draco sighed, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Honestly,” he said. “It’s a wonder they gave you any of your NEWTS.”

“They were honorary,” Harry said. “I didn’t actually need to sit any tests.”

“ _Honestly_ ,” Draco said again. 

“I’m telling you, I know how to do the usual spells,” Harry insisted. “We needed them all the time, during the war.”

Draco sighed again. He put his quill down and pushed his plate away from him. “Come on,” he said bossily. “Outside.”

He put his disguise back on with another quick sweep of his wand, then led Harry out onto the sidewalk. It was the middle of the day in a small muggle village, so there were enough people out and about. They paid neither of them any mind, proof at least that his muggle repelling charm was functional. 

“Recast them,” Draco said, crossing his arms. “Start from the beginning.”

Harry didn’t enjoy the feeling of Ingrid’s judgemental gaze on his wand hand, judging his technique, his positioning, the emphasis placed on certain parts of the incantation. _Salvio Hexia. Protego Totalum. Protego Maxima. Repello Inimicum. Fianto Duri._

Draco was silent for several moments, studying the shimmer of magic above his head. “Again,” he said quietly. 

He made Harry go through it several more times before he seemed satisfied. And even then, he told Harry to take down the wards, and then, he pulled his own wand out and performed the spells himself.

He said nothing as they went back into the house, and removed his disguise once again. Harry, agitated, watched as Draco made himself supremely comfortable by putting on his own tea, and settling in one of the armchairs in the living room.

“Your technique is relatively correct,” Draco said eventually, bringing his teacup to his lips.

“ _That’s_ a compliment,” Harry said dryly, surprised. He settled on the loveseat opposite of Malfoy. “So what’s the problem?”

“The magic is weak,” Draco remarked, leaning his head back against the chair. He studied Harry with a remarkable lack of judgement for such a cutting remark.

“The magic--” Harry’s hand immediately jumped to his hair, a spike of panic in his throat. “How--”

“Do stay calm, Potter,” Draco said dryly. “Not all your magic. Rather, the magic used for these specific spells.”

A cup of tea floated in from the kitchen for Harry. He took hold of it, and brought it up to his mouth for a long sip. “I didn’t know that could happen,” he said, frowning.

“Yes, you did,” Draco said impatiently. “It’s one of the Five Great Principles of Magic. We learned about it in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Magic only works as well as the intentions of the caster.”

Harry vaguely remembered something about that. He rubbed at his eye. “I thought that only applied to dark magic,” he said quietly. “The intent to cause harm, to cause pain. The Unforgivables.”

“It’s the same principle for all magic. People are just usually far less unwilling to perform helpful enchantments,” Draco said. He put his cup aside. “Which means, the issue is you.”

Harry was silent. He felt anger rise in his chest. “You mean to say,” he said. “That I don’t intend for the shields to work.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, regarding Harry. He said nothing.

“You think I don’t want a peaceful, quiet home?” Harry said. “You think I like this?”

“It seems possible,” Draco said. “You always did like the attention.”

The handle of the tea cup splintered in Harry’s hand. He set it down on the table between them, his hand shaking. 

“Am I wrong?” Draco said, standing up. He leaned over the table, sneering down at Harry. “Isn’t that why you waited so long to have it dealt with? Why you went on worrying your friends and family?”

Harry stared up at him, his hands curling into fists.

“Had your children taken from you,” Draco said. “Because you’d rather make everyone think of you as a martyr--”

His fist connected to Draco’s cheek with a satisfying crunch. Draco stumbled back, staring at Harry with wide grey eyes as blood welled on his lip. He brought his hand up to stop it from dripping down his chin. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Harry said, standing up. He advanced on Draco, backing him up until he was forced to sit back down in his chair. Harry put an arm on the back of the chair and leaned over him. “I don’t care if you’re here to have a good laugh at me, Malfoy, but don’t you dare say a word about my children.”

Draco was looking up at him from under long lashes. He was flushed, annoyed at the punch. Blood was welling up against his fingers, and when he saw Harry looking, he pulled his hand away. “I told you to expect the truth from me,” he said. “You can hit me as much as you like.”

“Oh?” Harry said. “I might enjoy having you here after all.”

Draco’s eyes flickered down, then back up. He pushed himself up on the arms of the chair until he was standing, in Harry’s space. Harry didn’t yield him any room. His grey eyes were blazing. He smelled of clean air and ink. Abruptly, the heat in Harry’s chest dropped into his stomach, and felt quite different.

“I do know you,” Draco said, his voice lowered, almost a whisper. “I’ve always known you. From the very beginning, I’ve watched you lose everything.” Harry lowered his eyes to Draco’s bleeding mouth. He lifted his wand, tapped it to Draco’s lip. The healing spell sealed over the graze. No problems with intent there. “I didn’t want this to happen,” he said. “I don’t want you here.”

Draco put his hands on Harry’s chest and pushed him back. He wiped at his mouth and then spelled the drying blood from his fingers. “Fine,” he said. “Then you best come up with a better reason why you can’t properly cast protective enchantments. I’m all out of ideas.”

 _Of course you are_ , Harry thought. _You’ve never known what it’s like._

*

Every morning, they went back out into the garden and tried the wards again. The house was protected as long as Draco was here to cast after him, but Draco insisted with just a quick glance over Harry’s shields that his spells weren’t performing any better.

After a week, Harry was beginning to feel like a Fidelius Charm was the quicker and better solution.

“Don’t be absurd, Potter, that’s too much,” Draco said. He was seated by the fire, writing out a letter to his son. Watching him, Harry realized it had been almost a month since he had done the same, and got out his own stationery set. “I keep telling you, it’s not a matter of practice. We can keep going over it every morning for a year, and nothing will change if you don’t want the spells to work.”

“I _do_ ,” Harry snapped. He cursed as he accidentally dripped ink on his letter to James. He wiped it away with his wand. “Do you not see how frustrating this is? Why would I want this?”

“I can’t tell you,” Draco said boredly. He glanced up from his letter. “Snape always said the only thing more complex than magic is human emotion. Unfortunately, they’re rather tied together.”

Harry sighed. He rubbed at his shoulder. They set to writing their letters in near-comfortable silence for some time, the scratching of quills and the fire almost reminding Harry of days in the common room. “Maybe I should ask for a second opinion,” he muttered, out of spite.

But when he looked up, Draco was actually smiling. “Feel free,” he said. “I can assure you, they’ll only refer you back to me.”

Harry, who had never been considered the expert in much of anything, save Quidditch by younger Gryffindors back in the day, and destroying Horcruxes (which no longer had much practical use), was rather jealous. “Weren’t the regular spells enough when you needed them?” he asked. “Why did you need to study them so extensively?”

Draco’s smile turned wry. “My attackers were a little more motivated than yours,” he said. “The spells they used were slightly more sinister in nature.”

As some of the only surviving supporters of Voldemort, the Malfoys has taken the brunt of society’s anger and grief, even after Harry had testified on their behalf, even after they had been clear of charges. “Anger is easier to deal with if you have somewhere to aim it,” Harry murmured.

“Indeed,” Draco said. “It might have been easier to let them destroy our home. Hurt me. Get it out of their systems. But my mother was of ill health at the time. I had to think of her.”

A tick appeared between Harry’s brow. “Let them hurt you?”

Draco looked back up from his letter, his hand pausing. “You think I wouldn’t have deserved it?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, frown deeper. He tried to picture Draco at that age, and somehow, he could only see James. Only two years younger than they had been. With none of the pressure, and still not any more fully capable of making decisions. Draco, even after the war, had done anything he’d needed to keep his family safe. “You were a child,” he said.

That small smile was back. “So were you.”

Harry swallowed. He glanced down at the letter, saw that the ink had dried. He rolled it up carefully. He would write Al in the morning. “I’m off to bed,” he said quietly, standing up.

He felt Draco’s eyes on him all the way to the door. “Potter,” he said quietly. “We’re not children anymore.”

Harry stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame. He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I know,” he said.

*

Draco caught him one afternoon, staring at the shields through the window. Draco’s magic looked different from his. The shield sat calmly, like glass, shifting shades of deep purple and silver. Harry’s shields had always been nervous looking, static, black and ugly greens. Really looking at it, now, Harry could see that Draco’s shields just looked that much stronger. More like Hermione’s lovely calm blues and whites, so clear you could barely see them at all.

He turned when he felt eyes on him. Draco was leaning on the doorway. For once, there was no hint of judgement in his expression. Harry felt safe to ask.

“I wondered if I might have Lily over to stay,” he said. “With your shields up, she’d be safe here.” Draco crossed the room to Harry’s window, the first time he had set foot inside his bedroom. He stood next to Harry and looked out at the shields too. The opportunity to be cutting must have occurred to him, but he didn’t say anything. 

“It’s a good idea,” he said finally. It was all he said.

Harry felt the heat of his arm next to him. Unused to this quiet presence, and staring at the strong weave of his magic, Harry felt trapped where he was. This was a feeling he didn’t want to leave, like stepping out of a warm hearth into the cold. But this was Draco. Draco Malfoy, the least safe person Harry knew.

He back away from the window, giving his head a small shake. “I’ll owl Ginny,” he said softly, and left without any response.

Lily dropped everything in front of the firegate when she arrived, her coat and her bag, kicking off her boots. Her red hair was full of soot and she left dirty footprints all the way down the hall as she ran at Harry with her arms outstretched, tears welling in her pretty brown eyes.

“Hullo, Lil,” Harry said, bending to hoist her up. It had been two months, and she already felt bigger. Her ninth birthday was only in a few weeks. Guilt ravaged Harry’s heart, and he held Lily as tightly as he could, burying his face in her tiny shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Lily had her mother’s pale, sensitive skin, and her cheeks were streaked red when she pulled away. But she smiled, soothing her little hands through Harry’s dark, wild hair. She’d always been fascinated by it, tugging on it painfully when she was a baby. “I’m hungry,” she said. She made herself laugh.

Harry carried her down the hall towards the kitchen. “Oh, _are_ you,” he said. “That’s too bad - dinner’s not for another four hours.”

“Papa,” Lily groaned, one arm wrapping around his back. “How many times do I have to remind you about lunch?”

“Oh, lunch,” Harry said. “Yes, that does sound familiar. Well, perhaps we can scrounge up something. A few bits of old cheese…”

He trailed off when they got to the kitchen, and Lily swallowed down her reply. Draco was standing by the stove, using his wand to scrape a pile of vegetables off a cutting board and into a pot. Harry forgot what he’d planned to say to introduce him.

Draco shot him a look, then smiled at Lily as Harry put her on her feet. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Draco.”

Lily peered up at him curiously, still holding on to Harry’s sleeve. “You’re Scorpius’ papa, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Draco said, and he held out a plate, which already had crackers and apples sliced on it. Lily grinned as she took a handful. “He spent Christmas at your mother’s last year, didn’t he?”

Harry was silent, watching as Draco charmed his child more effectively than Harry had ever seen him charm anyone. They spoke avidly over lunch about last Christmas, about Scorpius, what House Lily wanted to be sorted into in two years time, and who she cheered for in Quidditch. Lily participated in rhythmic gymnastics, a sport that in the wizarding world involved making beautiful sparks and ribbons illuminate from your wand as you danced. Lily used a play wand for now, but would be allowed to use her real wand in competition when she turned eleven. Somehow, Draco knew all of this, and kept her entertained by discussing it for the rest of the meal.

Lily kissed Harry on the cheek, and then Draco, once she was excused. Harry listened to her feet climb the stairs and her bedroom door shut quietly. Pop music followed before long. Draco looked up from doing the dishes at Harry’s stare. “What?”

Harry leaned back against the table and crossed his arms.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Potter,” he said. “She’s a child. I’m hardly going to let my feelings about you affect the way I treat her. Unlike some.”

Harry was too impatient to bother asking what that meant. “Can we try the wards again?” he asked.

Draco indicated with his soapy wand, towards the door. “Be my guest,” he said. “I don’t actually need to be there. I’ll be able to see the shoddy results from here.”

Harry put his hand into the soapy water and flicked some into Draco’s hair. The day was cold and windy. Rain spat in Harry’s face and trickled down his neck. Harry stood in it for a moment with his eyes closed, enjoying that sense of relief that came with having his children under his roof. He and Ginny had separated only a month before Albus had left for Hogwarts. It had been amicable, and the boys were at Hogwarts anyway, but even still, Harry had not quite gotten used to only having Lily two weeks out of the month, and the boys for only one month in the summer. Not having Lily at all had been dreadful. To have Lily able to visit again was a step towards feeling….well, better. 

Draco was standing behind him, a smaller shield charm blocking the rain, when the incantations were done. Harry wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but the ward seemed sturdier. Not the clear glass of a perfect casting, but a more consistent barrier of energy. He could see on Draco’s expression that it wasn’t only his imagination. “Good,” Draco said quietly. “Better.”

Harry wished the praise didn’t mean anything to him. He kept his eyes on the ward. “Can we keep it up?” he asked.

Draco’s eyes dropped to Harry’s face. He didn’t say anything. Harry sighed, and put his hands in his pockets, turning back to the house.

Better, but still not good enough.

*

“Why did you join the ministry, after?”

Draco looked up from the game of wizard’s chest between them. Lily was always falling asleep early, and had abandoned the game with Harry halfway through. Draco had taken over, and quickly made up what ground Lily had lost. 

Draco raised a slim blond eyebrow. “The same reason most people get jobs, Potter,” he said.

Harry smirked slightly, advancing his knight. “I’d have thought you had quite enough money.”

“So do you,” Draco responded, watching impassively as his pawn was beheaded. He glanced up at Harry’s look of surprise. “The Potter family is old money just as much as mine. Your father didn’t work anymore than mine did.”

Harry put his chin in his hand, gazing over the board. His move. “It would have driven me crazy not to work.”

“And me,” Draco said. “My father was always involved in politics. I didn’t have much interest, even if they would have me. I suppose you could say I stumbled upon this career by accident. I enjoyed it, so I wanted to do it more.”

Harry watched idly as Draco’s knight chased one of Harry’s pawns off the board, across the table, and up Harry’s arm. The pawn hid under Harry’s sleeve, and the knight was forced to whack him to death with the flat of his blade. “I always wanted to be an auror,” he murmured.

“Did you?” Draco asked. The sincere question in his tone had Harry looking up.

“Of course,” he said.

“You never considered anything else? Wondered what else you might enjoy? Wand making? Magical gardening? Writing books about your stunningly heroic adventures?”

Harry levelled Draco with an impatient look. “If you’re going to tell the truth,” he said. “Be direct.”

Draco smiled. “I think you never did consider anything else,” he said. “You were always battling dark magic, saving others, solving mysteries, from the moment you knew about our world. You had to. So it probably seemed logical to continue doing it and be paid for it.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed.

“But do you enjoy it?” Draco asked. 

Harry’s mouth fell open. To his own surprise, he wasn’t angry. He just felt...incapable of answering the question. “Do I enjoy it?” he repeated, as if in doing so the answers would become more clear.

Draco studied him for a long time. Finally, he got to his feet, and rounded the chess table. Harry leaned back in his chair, arms coming up into the side as Draco, unexpectedly, straddled his lap. He put his arms around Harry’s shoulders and gazed at him.

“What are you doing?” Harry whispered, arms still held out to the side. He didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate this.

Draco slid a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and squeezed. Then, he put his forehead against Harry’s, and pressed his hips forward. “Mm,” Harry breathed, surprised at the spark of pleasure.

“I’m talking about enjoyment, Potter,” Draco said softly. He pressed in again, his grey eyes intent. “What do you enjoy?”

Harry sat in his chair, his lips parted and his breathing strange, while Draco rolled his hips, pressing in again and again until Harry was half-hard, heat pooling in his spine. Draco tilted his head only slightly, pressing a small, gentle kiss to Harry’s lips, and then another. Harry’s hands finally settled on Draco’s hips, pulling him in, and then they were really kissing, Draco’s tongue pushing in.

“Are you enjoying this, Harry?” Draco whispered wetly against his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, and he was grinding his hips up, pushing their dicks together through their slacks. “ _Yes_ , I’m enjoying it.”

“It feels good? Do you want more?”

“ _Yes_ \-- _Mm._ ”

Draco kissed him again, and it felt like a reward for a question correctly answered. But then he was pulling away, up and off Harry’s lap, neatly escaping Harry’s grasping hands with a few backwards steps. Harry stared at him.

Draco’s cheeks were flushed, his glasses sliding down the light sweat on his nose. His chest was rising fast with the pace of his breathing. Whatever this was, Harry knew, it wasn’t a trick. “Tell me, then,” Draco said. “What you want to do.”

Harry was up and out of the chair in a flash, taking hold of Draco’s face and kissing him hard. “Get in my bed,” he said, voice low. “I’ll be up in two minutes.”

*

Harry took a long walk through the house afterwards, extinguishing the lights, putting things away, checking on his daughter. When he got back to his room, he expected Draco to be gone, returned to the attic, and neither one of them would need to discuss whatever strange experiment had just taken place.

He wasn’t gone. Harry stood quietly in the doorway, as every thought slid away easily from his mind. Draco was sitting up in Harry’s bed, still naked and with his knees drawn to his chest. His hair was messed up in the back, where Harry had been gripping it. He was watching Harry calmly.

Whatever thought about what ought to happen now was long gone. Harry did what he wanted to do, which was slide on to the bed and press kisses to Draco’s mouth, his throat. If it kept feeling this good, the why’s could happen later, or as far as he was concerned, never.

Draco shifted eventually so Harry could get in behind, and then he leaned his back against Harry’s chest, staring at the canopy above. Little enchanted fireflies were dancing around overhead. “Al put those up there when he was six,” Harry said fondly. “I never bothered to get them down.”

Draco smiled, and reached for his wand. Soon, the fireflies were leaving sparkling trails of silver and green. Harry countered with some red and gold. “See,” he said. “My charms aren’t all bad.”

Draco shifted so he could look Harry in the eye. “When you want them to be,” he said softly.

Harry licked his bottom lip. Like before, without the anger to guide him, he didn’t know what to say. He ducked his head until his eyes were hidden against Draco’s jaw. “I want to protect my children,” he whispered. “I want them to be safe here. I do.”

Cold fingers brushed along his jaw. “I know,” Draco said softly. 

Harry lifted his head again. “Then why do you say things, like--”

Draco put his fingers against Harry’s mouth, this time. “You make me so angry,” he said softly. “You always have. You choose to do things the hardest way. To suffer for nothing. I could have made it easier. I wanted---” Draco closed his eyes. “You never let me.”

Harry was quiet for sometime, their heads leaned together. “You might have said that,” he whispered.

“I didn’t know how,” Draco said. “But I can read you, Harry. So easily. I know exactly what to say to get you to look at me.”

Harry ran a hand through Draco’s hair, gripping it tight for a moment. “I can read you, too,” he said. “You were never what you wanted us to think of you. I didn’t understand.”

Draco opened his eyes. He reached back to take hold of Harry’s hand, pulling it from his hair. “We’re not children anymore,” he repeated softly. “And for once, I’ll say what I mean. Your wards aren’t weak because you don’t want to protect your children. Your wards were working perfectly well until they were gone. Until Weasley was gone.”

Draco leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to Harry’s mouth. “It’s you,” he whispered. “You’re the one that you don’t want to protect.”

“I--” Harry said, feeling his throat start to close. “That’s not true.”

Draco tilted his chin up and kissed him again, and then again. Harry gripped Draco’s waist, and it was like each kiss was turning the key in something locked deep within him, a nasty truth. “Why?” he breathed against Draco’s lips.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, pulling back to look at him. “I’m not leaving until we figure it out.”

Draco was trying to turn on to his front, get on his knees, but Harry held him in place with desperate hands. He tugged Draco back against his chest, reaching for his cock. He swiped his thumb gently over the tip. “I want you like this,” he whispered, and closed his eyes when Draco let out the sweetest moan.

*

Actually, the noises Draco made were something of a problem. It was difficult to get them out of his mind over the next two weeks when he was taking care of usual, daily business, like cleaning the house, or helping Lily with her homework. In particular, there was one noise he had made the night before, when Harry had slid two fingers right inside him, rubbing his walls--

An altogether different sound came from Draco behind him. Harry glanced back, and then up at the wards he had just cast. They were different - the black had lightened into a pure, dark green. It looked like shattered glass. It wasn’t perfect, but--

Draco’s arm snaked around his chest. He pressed a kiss to Harry’s ear. “Good, Potter,” he said. “So good.”

Harry turned his head with the intent of sneaking a different kind of kiss, but just then the door opened, and Lily came bounding down the steps. She had her toy broom in her hand. “Let’s go to the park!”

Draco immediately summoned his broom, which was of course the newest, fastest model. Lily’s delighted screams could probably have been heard from London as Draco took her zooming around the park. They got along better than Harry would have ever imagined, and Harry was quickly moved down the ranking in terms of Coolness in Lily’s eyes. Uncle Draco was Coolness Supreme.

Harry missed her like a physical ache when she returned to her mother’s, but of course it was easier to be intimate with Draco when they were alone. Harry’s wards continued to improve, but Draco continued to insist it was Harry’s job that was keeping them from being adequate. 

Harry had him laid out in bed one morning, pressing kisses to his shoulder and spine. He’d discovered that Draco got almost instantly hard when he did this, his hips shifting restlessly in the sheets. “How do you suppose I find a job I like as much as sex?” he asked.

“Hon-es-tly,” Draco moaned into his folded arms, where he’d hidden his face. Harry was finding that the more Draco came to like him, the longer that word got drawn out. “It’s not the _sex_ , Potter, it’s your _life_. The wards don’t work because you’re unhappy.”

He rolled slowly onto his back, reaching for Harry to pull him closer. He touched Harry’s face with the pads of his fingers. “Why did you think these attacks were just pranks?”

Harry turned his head to kiss the tips of those long fingers. “What else would they be?”

“You’re an auror, Potter,” Draco said impatiently. “It’s your job to make people angry. You ruin lives, families. It’s for the greater good, of course, but it’s difficult to convince someone of that when their husbands, wives, parents, children--are in prison, and you’re responsible.”

Harry sat back on his knees. He ran a hand, agitated, through his hair. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years,” he said. “No one’s ever attacked my home before.”

“They did. But your wards worked,” Draco said. “Because your family was here. When it’s just you, there’s nothing between you and that feeling that you just want the fight to be finished. That maybe, you want to lose - if you’ll just get some peace.”

Harry stared at him, devastated, because he couldn’t even deny it. He ran his hands over his face, but let them drop when Draco sat up to kiss him. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’re tired, Potter. It’s been longer than twenty years. When I heard you’d become an auror, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t imagine why you would want to keep doing this, after everything you’d been through.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Harry murmured. “I didn’t know I was allowed to do anything else.”

“Well, luckily you are now fucking a deeply selfish person,” Draco said, flopping back with a happy stretch. He shifted himself down along the bed, forcing Harry to part his knees and make room for him. “And I’m here to tell you it’s perfectly acceptable to spend your life doing what makes you feel good.”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, when Draco licked a long stripe up his cock. “Like this?”

“Like this,” Draco agreed with a smile. He rolled Harry’s dick against his cheek. “What else?”

Harry thought of it while Draco sucked him off, tried to remember what had ever brought him similar feelings of pleasure, of joy. Other times when he had felt so, so good. The list was short, but it was there, and Draco was right - it didn’t include being an auror. It was family, it was Hogwarts. He’d never stopped missing it. The last time he’d felt on top of the world.

“Nnn. Mm--I liked teaching,” Harry moaned, falling forward to brace his arms off the bed.

Draco pulled off him with a triumphant pop. “Teaching,” he repeated, calmly using his hand for the moment.

“In fifth year, we had that group.”

“Dumbledore’s Army,” Draco recalled, with a laugh. “Yes, I do recall something about that.”

“You should. You helped ruin it.”

“Yes, and your ex-wife jinxed me mightily for it.”

Harry smiled, shifting down the bed so they was face-to-face. He rubbed his wet cock in the cut of Draco’s hip, still braced slightly above him. “I taught the others how to use defensive spells,” he said quietly. “I liked it. I was good at it.”

“So, there you have it,” Draco said, reaching up to play with his hair. “Teaching.”

Harry smiled, stilling his hips. “You make it sound so easy. There’d need to be a posting.”

“You’re Harry Potter,” Draco said dryly, reaching to take hold of Harry’s ass. “If you want a posting, they’ll make one for you.”

“Just...change everything about my life,” Harry murmured. “Quit my job, sell my house.”

Draco reached up and took Harry’s face between his hands. He pulled him down for a kiss. “Potter,” he said softly. He pressed another kiss to his chin. “It may not be easy, but it’s got to be better than letting yourself get hexed for a year and a half.”

A quick spell, and Harry was able to lower himself onto Draco, taking him in with ease. It was worth it to see the pleasure force his eyes closed, his jaw open. Punish him for being such a know-it-all. For making Harry feel like his chest was wide open for Draco to see. “You know,” Harry breathed, letting his head fall back as he lifted and dropped his hips. “This time, I might try out listening to you.”

The glibness was worth it, for the way Draco’s nails raked down his back.

*

The letter from Headmaster Flitwick was so quick in response that Draco had only barely packed up and gone home, fully paid for services rendered. He would have to wait until the start of Winter term, of course, so as not to disrupt the learning too badly, but Professor Davies was eager to retire, and they’d been about to put up an advertisement for the DADA posting anyways.

“Eager to retire,” Harry murmured, lounging on Draco’s chaise lounge as he read over the letter for the twentieth time. “Roger’s what, 65? How much did you pay him?”

Draco gave him a scathing look from his desk, blueprints scattered in front of him - he was working on the wards for a new large bank in Northern Ireland. “Good god, Potter, I don’t like you that much.”

“I think you _do_ ,” Harry muttered, summoning a quill so he could write Flitwick back.

As it turned out, Draco liked Harry enough to join him in his new quarters at the castle for a few days when his posting began, before term. 

And when Harry was there to take attendance of the students as they filtered in from the station, accepting excited hugs from his sons when they came by, he locked the gates after them with protective enchantments that were a clear, beautiful green. 

_Charms worked_ , he wrote to Draco. 

_Mildly impressed_ , he got back. Then, a moment later. _Happy?_

Harry looked out his window, at the dark lake. This feeling in him was so unfamiliar that he hadn’t even realized he’d lost it. Now, he remembered. _I’d be happier if I could put this warming serum I bought in Hogsmeade to better use._

He grinned when the floo roared to life behind him.


End file.
